


yen

by confessa



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, a bit of Jorah x Dany but from Jon's perspective, spoilers through episode 7x05
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-14
Updated: 2017-08-14
Packaged: 2018-12-15 07:26:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11801280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/confessa/pseuds/confessa
Summary: A quick little ficlet that I wrote for 7x05 of Game of Thrones, told from Jon's perspective and filling in missing scenes for the episode.





	yen

**Author's Note:**

> This is a quick ficlet that I wrote after I watched the latest episode, 7x05. I proof-read this very quickly only so I'm sorry if there are any errors.

 

 

Her smile lights up her face in a way he has not seen before. He had seen condescension in her smile when they had first met and argued in the throne room; wariness on the castle staircases talking about dragons and fallen brothers; coquettishness when she had whispered to Missandei of topics he could not hear; and gentleness as she stared after Drogon, a mother’s love for the great winged beast that he could not quite understand. 

 

He has never seen true happiness in her smile, not until now. Her cheeks are flushed pink, partly from the biting wind, but surely also from the joy that shone through her entire being. Her voice is thicker than usual, full of emotion rather than cold and calculated. Her eyes are fixed firmly on the man standing in front of them. Jon realises, for the first time, that he had always been the object of her attention in their brief meetings together. Now, he is the man in the background, an intruder on what should have been an intimate, private reunion.

 

“I return to your service, my queen.” Ser Jorah says. The man’s face is weathered and exhausted, as if he had crossed a hundred oceans and deserts for his queen. “If you’ll have me.”

 

“It would be my honour.” Daenerys replies, without hesitation. It is a stark departure from the self-importance she displays so often, a crack in the royal demeanour she has carefully crafted for herself. When she steps forward with her arms outstretched, it takes a moment for Jon to register that she is moving in to hug the knight.

 

The hug is brief, but Jon’s eyes follow Daenerys’ gloves hands smoothing down Ser Jorah’s cloak, flickering to the wide,  _ genuine  _ smile still fixed on her face and the tenderness in her eyes that are for Ser Jorah’s own only. The knight casts a glance towards Jon, and Jon can only stare back. 

 

Jon has never felt jealousy before, but he understands now why it is known as an ugly creature. The bitterness unfurling in his stomach and stabbing at his heart is only as strong as the shame that rises in him for those same emotions. 

 

Behind the reunited knight and queen, the Dothraki wait patiently. Their leader catches Jon’s eyes and smirks, amusement playing across his harsh features. Jon looks away, feeling very much again like a bastard child caught staring after high-born ladies in Winterfell. Years later, now crowned King in the North, and he has changed so little in some ways. 

 

“Let us return to the castle.” Daenerys says, still not looking anywhere else but at the man standing in front of her. “I am sure Ser Jorah is tired, and we have much to discuss.” 

 

Jon politely lets the two of them walk slightly ahead of him on their journey back, and Daenerys is equally polite when she dismisses him at the castle and disappears towards her chambers with the knight in tow. Jon stares after their receding backs longer than is considered proper. 

 

He busies himself at the mines for the rest of the day, but when night falls and he returns to his chambers, alone with his thoughts with no distractions to help him, the only thing he can think of is that he would like to see Daenerys smile at him truly, if only for one time, before he dies. 

  
  
  


 

Jon does not see Daenerys over the coming days. He catches glimpses of Ser Jorah at times, and once he overhears Tyrion mentioning that Daenerys spends much of her time with Ser Jorah in her private solar.

 

“What is their history together?” He finally musters up the courage to ask Tyrion one evening when he joins Jon at the caves.

 

“What is it to you?” Tyrion asks. His voice is neutral, but Jon can tell Tyrion is teasing him.

 

“I’m just curious.”

 

“Curious.”

 

“You know what, never mind. Forget I asked-”

 

Tyrion laughs. “Don’t worry, Jon Snow. Ser Jorah is only a close friend of Daenerys Targaryen, and he has never been her lover. He loves her, certainly, but I think Daenerys might have eyes for someone else in her life.”

 

“That doesn’t really answer my question at all.”

 

“No, but it does answer the question that you really want to ask.” 

 

Tyrion gives him a knowing smile then. Jon wants to hate him for it, but the tightness in his throat loosens a little and all he can feel is relief. And just as quickly, dread. 

 

  
  
  


The fear is evident on Daenerys’ face when Ser Jorah offers to go north of the Wall for her. Jon doesn’t let it affect him, and it is entirely for an unrelated reason that he finds himself deciding to go north as well. It is the logical step to take, he knows that. The wildlings would never follow a stranger like Ser Jorah in his expedition to find a wight, and Jon Snow is the only one available who has seen the White Walkers and the army of the dead. Still, satisfactions comes unbidden to him when Daenerys’ eyes swivel around to him and the fear is evident there too. 

 

“A woman’s love is the downfall of us all.” Ser Davos says later, when they have returned to their chambers. 

 

“What’s that for?” 

 

“Nothing, Your Grace.” Ser Davos says, but he has that same, infuriatingly knowing smile on his face that Tyrion had in the caves. “I am only feeling poetic today.”  

  
  
  


 

Ser Davos' words repeat in his mind for days after they are spoken. It reminds him of red hair and red blood, an arrow in the heart and the smell of burning flesh as he watched the woman he loved turn to ashes. 

 

It was probably not Ser Davos' intentions, but Jon's mind is brought back on track - the war with the dead is coming. 

 

 

 

It takes a few more weeks before Tyrion returns from King’s Landing with the news that Jaime has agreed to discuss matters with Cersei, should a wight be successfully brought to King's Landing as evidence. The message kicks their plan into full swing. The mining of the dragonglass is accelerated, bag after bag carried to the ship awaiting in the shallow bay. Daenerys begins plans to bring shift a portion of the Unsullied to the Riverlands in the event they can march north. Even the dragons seem to understand that something large in underway, as their screeches sometimes wake Jon up in the middle of the night, from dreams of ice blue eyes and rotting skin.

 

Jon catches Tyrion alone in the throne room one evening, a lonely figure sitting on the dais steps, his shadow looming as large as a giant in the harsh light cast by the torches on the wall. For just a brief moment, the shadow seems to morph into a lion as the flames flicker in the cold wind. Jon sits down beside the dwarf, trying to picture his own shadow as a wolf but failing. 

 

“This is a good thing.” Jon tells him. “If the wars in the South can be paused, Daenerys can come North with her armies and dragons to help us fight the White Walkers.”

 

“Aye, if we reach that far.” Tyrion places a hand on Jon’s arm, his face uncharacteristically grave. Jon notices then the exhaustion and worry in the dwarf’s eyes. “You must come back from your expedition, Jon Snow. You must bring Ser Jorah back with you as well. The queen needs you, the both of you.”

 

He is not entirely sure what Tyrion means by his words, and he is not entirely sure he wants to know. Before the conversation can continue, Varys steps into the room and Tyrion is led out to meet the queen, leaving Jon alone in an empty hall in front of an empty throne. He looks down at his shadow once more, and he thinks for a confused second, that he sees a great dragon instead. 

  
  
  


 

He spends his last few days on Dragonstone preparing for his departure. The preparation is as much a mental task as it is a physical one. As he packs away each of his sparse belongings in his room, he also packs away each of the emotions he has formed since reaching this place.

 

_ There is no time for that.  _ He had told Ser Davos. His conviction had been worn down with the abrupt arrival of Ser Jorah stirring emotions that he had not wanted but had felt all the same. With the inevitable meeting with the White Walkers looming in the near future, Jon is reminded once again that there is no room for matters of the heart. 

 

For now, there is no future beyond the war with the dead. He doubts there will be a future for him after that all.

  
  
  


 

It is a scene taken straight of the pictures Jon had seen as a child in the books of Winterfell, a valiant knight kissing the hands of his queen before he heads out to war, a silent promise to return communicated without the need for any words. Jon is almost sorry when he has to take the knight's place.

 

Daenerys’ expression when she looks at him is undecipherable. He can only notice the greyness of her eyes and how it brings out the silver of her hair. 

 

“If I don’t return, at least you won’t have to deal with the King in the North anymore.” He has thought carefully about the last words he would say to her. He does not quite know why he had settled on cracking a joke. Perhaps a last chance to see her smile. 

 

“I’ve grown used to him.” 

 

The words carry a weight too heavy for Jon to accept. He has closed this particular chapter of his life.  

 

" I wish you good fortune in the wars to come, Your Grace.” 

 

He leaves quickly after that. He can feel her eyes trained on his back, and he wills himself not to turn back. If everything goes according to plan, he will see the Dragon Queen again, but he feels a faint sense of liberation leaving her presence. He is good at war, he is good at fighting - he was never good at words and relationships, too tricky and complex compared to the simple swings of a sword. 

 

When he reaches his ship though, he allows himself to look to the shore for the one and only time. He can just make out Daenerys’ figure, still standing in the same spot they had left her. Above her, her dragons circle the island. 

 

Ser Jorah comes to stand by his side. 

 

They stand there, silent and unspeaking, before Jon finally turns around to attend to his men.   
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
